


The Dark Soul of Skyrim

by BeJuled



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I, Dark Souls III, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crossover, Multi, POV First Person, alternate elder scrolls genesis theories, knowledge of dark souls lore not particularly necessary, no warnings apply yet, post-end of fire in DS3, small liberties taken with canon when necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8756569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeJuled/pseuds/BeJuled
Summary: Let him grant death to those who would forsake their once holy thrones, who would choose the Darkness to which they no longer belong.





	1. Prologue: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> (just in case it gets confusing to anyone, our main character here is waking up on the Red Mountain in the same year the events of _Morrowind_ take place)

The first thing I recall is heat. I know it had always been warm here, almost as if the ground remembered the Flame that had once rested there. What woke me up was a heat I hadn’t felt it in so long, I’d forgotten what it was like. My heart began to beat again. The need to breathe came next, and my mouth filled with harsh, ashen sand.

I tried to sit up, but I was blocked by stone. I panicked, scrabbling and swimming in the dark grains. I tried to call out for help. My throat was clogged, and I couldn’t make a sound, each grain a knife of pain. I tried to empty my stomach to maybe clear my throat, but it was as dry as everything else.

Why was I alive again if all I could do was die three seconds later? I mused over my pain, despite everything. I actually found it rude. Did someone more powerful than me take pleasure in reviving the dead from their deserved sleep just to have them experience it all again?

My prison shook. The grating of stone against stone above me caused light to filter through my suffocating tomb. I sat up, the movement knocking free just enough of the ash for me to begin coughing. I drew my first ragged, clean breath in Gods-know-how-many years. It hurt. Every fucking inch of me hurt, and my own crackling voice frightened me when I cried out. Waking up shouldn’t ever be this painful.

I sat there for a while, waiting for the pain to abate. Once it finally did, I rubbed my eyes free of gunk that had crusted around them due to tears I don’t remember shedding. Several minutes passed before I felt my eyes clear enough to open. Tears still gushed forth from them, not from the pain or anguish but simply because they hadn’t been opened for so long.

I still couldn’t see anything but orange and pink blobs cradled by slate grey. It hurt even to see, but that was quickly fading too. Flicking more ash off my hands, I rubbed my eyes again. The intensity of the colors before me grew, and I squinted as they became clearer. I was faced toward the horizon as the sun rose or sank, I couldn’t tell just yet. The land around me was barren, grey and ashen like my grave, akin to the Kiln of the First Flame.

I blew air out of my nose, dislodging more debris and sneezing a couple times for good measure. Once cleared, I took in a deep breath through it. Rotting earth gasses and burning stone not unlike a combustion spell. Definitely not the Kiln. I mean, I think. When I had been there, my senses had already been dead, but I don’t think the First Flame would have smelled like this.

The ground shook gently beneath me, and I heard a distant crack of thunder above. Looking up, I saw a few brightly burning streaks in the black clouds. Ah. I was on the slope of a fire mountain. I’d only read of them, but it matched the description well enough.

How in hell’s name did I end up here?

I looked down at myself, waist deep in ash, but what caught my attention were my hands. My skin had returned, cradling my once skeletal, dry digits with warm, padded flesh. I almost didn’t believe what I was looking at. My palms were the same pale brown color they had been when I was declared to carry the dark sign by the village shaman of my old home in the Great Swamp. I turned them over, fascinated. The backs of my hands were as dark as the familiar mud there as well, matching the rest of my body. Even the play-pyromancy scars from my youth still marked my knuckles.

I breathed an awed gasp. Was this real? This couldn’t be. I had to be dead. I looked up at the sunrise/sunset again. The sun was perfectly, blindingly bright as it had been before I killed the Lords of Cinder. Its black core was no more.

Impossible. This wasn’t real. I had wrested the Flame from its mantle. The Dark had taken over. I was there. I watched that very sun fade into eternal night.

My skin began to itch the longer I sat in the ash. I crawled out of the tomb into the impossible light of the sun. Though I was dirty and covered in grey powder, I found I was nude, my robes having long rotted away. I dug back through my tomb, searching for the couple pieces of Irithyll gauntlets and greaves I’d worn. Sure enough I found a couple pieces here and there, but they were unrecognizably rusted, crumbling in my hands. Anyone else would have thought them clumps of dirt.

Sitting back, I wiped my hands together and had another coughing fit, my lungs aching. The air was warm, despite the strong smell. All right. So I had to have been in there long enough for the Light to return once again, then. The land had changed drastically, or I had been moved so far away I just didn’t recognize anything. I went with the latter for now.

Then came the obvious questions: why was I alive again? How was I alive? Who or what had revived me? And who the hell opened my tomb? As far as I could see, there was nothing else living around me. For curiosity’s sake, I looked down at my chest. The dark sign remained there. I could feel it nestled against my heart now that I paid attention. So I still wasn’t mortal, then.

Someone had to have used some heavy magic to revive me this far. I flexed my hand, calling forth an old tome reading in my head for a simple fire spell. Nothing happened. The familiar heat of my pyromancy sat faithfully in my palm, but I couldn’t cast anything. I tried with a couple other spells, and still, nothing happened. Hmm. Couldn’t worry about that right now.

A sharp pain shot through my gut. I yelped and clutched my stomach. What now?! My stomach complained and burned, probably filling with acidic bile again. Oh. Wait. Wait, what? Was I actually hungry? Thirst gripped my dry tongue as well. I would have laughed if my lungs didn’t hurt so much.

I tried to get to my feet, failing the first couple times and feeling like a newborn foal. I coughed again once I finally stood. I had ash in every crevice and pain inside, making for an unwelcome, miserable mix. I scanned the horizon for a town or village. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and night approached. I needed to find food, drink, and shelter soon, and I doubted that any of those things would be near a place like this.

Immaturely, I thought again how inconvenient this was. Why would whatever or whoever revived me leave me in the middle of nowhere? But it was useless at the moment to blame a faceless force, and I kept looking across the land below. It was partially covered in low-lying clouds, making it harder to see anything, but I spotted a faintly blue glow down the slope. Figuring that was a good a place as any to head, I wobbled in the direction of the glow.


	2. Prologue: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pronunciations—  
> Siddrahld: Sid-rald  
> Ingedreid: In-ged-rayd  
> Alrehrson: Al-rer-son
> 
> (Village shown here is Caldera.)

The longer I walked, the more my strength came back to me, but my lungs and throat still burned from the ash. As I homed in on the blue glow, I kept trying different spells, wishing I had a staff with me to try the other spells I knew. I wondered at one point if the fire mountain had the capability of dampening my magick.

 

I rounded a large out cropping of rock and found myself close enough to the blue glow to make out what it was. It stretched across the land in front of me, a wall of light segmented by enormous pillars. It was a fence, at least fifteen meters high. Sighing through my nose, I continued to approach it, ready to test how strong it was.

 

The closer I got, however, the heavier the air became. It was definitely powerful magick, and not only that, the strongest power came from the fence pillars themselves. I reached out a hand to touch the stone. The familiar hum of old souls resided inside. I tried to draw them out, but whatever magick created the fence prevented me from taking them. I then tried pushing through the barrier itself, met with cool, unyielding stiffness.

 

Crossing my arms, I glared at the fence indignantly. If I had a few hours and a powerful enough pairing of dark fire and a heavy weapon, I probably could have hacked away at the damn thing, taken the souls there, and broken through the barrier. Weak and naked as a babe as I was, no such thing would happen.

 

And as unlucky as I seemed to be, if I didn’t get anything to drink in the next couple hours, I was probably going to pass out or die. I already felt lightheaded from the walk over here. But since I still held the dark sign, I would just awaken sometime later looking very much like a corpse again.

 

Not happening. As much as it hurt, I didn’t want to lose the senses and needs that had miraculously come back to me. They didn’t make sense, but I was keeping them nonetheless.

 

I kept walking next to the fence over the rough terrain, trying to force my mouth to make some saliva instead of the disgusting glue that would not go away no matter how much I spit. My feet burned and screamed, unprotected and cut from the sharp rocks. After about thirty or so minutes, I found a cluster of round buildings sitting in the middle of two pillars.

 

The wind had begun to pick up some, blowing dust around me and stinging my skin. The wheezing in my chest was only growing louder. I continued toward the buildings. The first was locked, but the second had a long tunnel with two gates inside. I trotted toward it and tried to lift it. Once I had the sense to see the small switch sitting right in front of the gate, I got to the other end of the tunnel quickly.

 

Howls, chirps, and deep lowing of creatures I couldn’t see at this distance filled my ears as well as a much colder tinge to the air. I wandered around the steep hills for almost an hour before I spotted speckles of light through the mists. The closer I got, I saw spires and shapes of smaller buildings more like I was used to. Several people walked around the lantern lit streets, perfectly upright, no stutter or heaviness to their step.

 

It wasn’t anything new, but it was the sheer amount of them that took me by surprise. Was this an actual, living human village? Without a second thought, I rushed over to the closest person. “Ho there! Hello!” I called out, my voice a wheeze almost as quiet as the wind.

 

The human still heard me and stopped. I quickly realized she was no human at all. She had the shape of one, but her skin matched the hoary ash I’d come from, and her angular eyes were deep red. Her ears came to a point too. How curious. She yelled angrily in a language I didn’t understand at all, covering her gaze from my lower half.

 

My cheeks burned, but I wasn’t exactly ashamed of being exposed. I couldn’t help that my clothes had deteriorated. I laughed nervously, holding my hands in front of my nethers for her sake. From her tone, I know she must have insulted me. “Uh. I, uh. Forgive me. I haven’t any clothes,” I croaked dumbly. Gods, it hurt to speak.

 

She responded, sounding fearful and repulsed. She started to back away, but I held one palm out and bent my knees, trying to make myself look small and unthreatening. “No, prithee, don’t go. I shan’t hurt thee.” I felt like a pompous idiot using proper Lordranic, but I thought it might help somehow.

 

It didn’t. She ran regardless, shouting and raising a fuss. An armored warrior near the spires jumped to attention when she came near him. I stood up straight, grimacing. Great.

 

***

 

The next morning, I awoke on greasy straw in largely empty prison. The guards had shoved sackcloth clothes at me. From the stench, I assumed they had prior belonged to a diseased prisoner. I’d also successfully gotten them to give me water through vigorous gesturing but no food as of yet. At least the film of ash was finally gone from my throat, though my lungs were still sore.

 

I sat up, rubbing my eyes with my palms. It felt good to really sleep again, despite the circumstances. Numb from the cold floor, my feet had small cuts from the rough mountain terrain, but otherwise I couldn’t actually complain. I’d been through worse.

 

I just hoped they didn’t kill me. I didn’t think public nudity was grounds for execution, no matter how out of touch I was with civilization. Maybe they still had Seigbrau, or the equivalent, and thought I was just drunk off my ass. I hoped they did. I really did.

 

A guard walked the cells every few minutes, eyeing me under his bony, insectoid helmet. I couldn’t see his face, but I was accustomed to reading expressions through armor. I sat with my elbows rested atop my knees, smiling and acknowledging him every time he passed me. After the tenth time, I heard him sigh. By the twelfth, he turned to me and nattered something, sounding exasperated. I coughed and smiled again, not really knowing how to communicate that I was happy for company.

 

My gesture was apparently taken positively, and his shoulders slowly dropped, losing their tension. He stared at me for a full minute before asking a calmer question. I faced both my palms up helplessly and shrugged again.

 

The guard huffed quietly and continued his pacing. It was nearly noon outside my window before three other people than the guard came to my cell. This time, they were recognizably human, tall and pale skinned as though they were from Astora. The middle looked to be the highest official among them, dressed in crisp looking leather and steel armor. He had an army-like posture and sounded formal when he addressed me.

 

I got up off the floor and walked toward the bars. I nodded and smiled to all of them, not really knowing what passed off as respectful or polite here.

 

The official said something else, tilting his head slightly and squinting his eyes. He was probably asking me why I was found naked.

 

I sighed and shrugged lamely again. “I don’t really know how to explain to you anything since you won’t understand,” I mused aloud. I looked away and itched the back of my neck. “Gods.”

 

He perked up, eyes large. He said more then repeated the word “Gods.”

 

I raised my brows. “‘Gods’?” I pointed to the ceiling. As if we even were saying the same word. It could have meant something completely different to him like “hamhocks” or “kill me now.”

 

The official said a few things to his companions. The other two regarded me with both disbelief and suspicion but said nothing. The official turned back to me, saying more that I didn’t understand.

 

I sighed and held out my arms, letting them fall back to my sides in helpless confusion. Well, this was great. How was I supposed to let them know I meant no ill will if the only common word between us was “Gods”?

 

The three of them departed after the official said something that sounded like parting words. I stared down the hall for a few moments before blowing out a sigh through slack lips, making a loud raspberry. My guard poked his head out from around the corner before I stepped back from the bars and sprawled out on the floor. This was going to be a long jail stay.

 

It was wasn’t, to my surprise. That evening, I heard a group of footsteps approaching me again. The three humans from before were accompanied by a man in completely ridiculous puffed, beige pats and a navy vest. Looked like a jester. He was one of the same strange species as that woman I’d seen last night, but his demeanor was different. He reminded me of one of the heartless Deacons of the Deep, and he set me on edge. Regardless, I got to my feet and nodded to them all.

 

The official said a few words to me before the short jester creature stepped closer to the bars. He looked me up and down as a hunter would a dying animal. He said a few nasally, grating words.

 

The official gestured at me, tapping his lips and pointing to the jester. Fine. “Uh. I take it they wanted you to hear me speak,” I offered. “Uhm. Do you know the word ‘gods’?” Er, kings? Farming? Goats? Wolves….? Dung pies?” The jester gave no reaction, just frowning as I went on.

 

I gave a weary glance to the official and sighed. I’m not sure how much more patience I—or the rest of them for that matter—had for this. They were probably concluding that I was mentally insane or something. The official offered me an understanding nod, thankfully.

 

The jester turned back to the company, chattering back and forth with them for a while and sounding bored. I sat back on the floor and slumped, trying to look as pathetic as possible. This was getting nowhere.

 

The jester left without acknowledging me, as well as the other two lower ranking humans. The official stayed behind and called down the hall. My cell guard came over and stood at attention as the official spoke to him. The guard looked at me then the official and back again before saying sounding fearful. He reached for a small rope on his belt and pointing to me with his other hand.

 

The official shook his head, crossing his arms and not saying another word. The guard quickly hopped to unlocking my cell, not binding me with the rope either.

 

I stood up quickly, surprised. I didn’t walk out until the official nodded and gestured to the door. When I stepped out, I didn’t know what else to do aside from give him the most respectful bow I knew. He laughed quietly as I did and returned the bow slightly. I don’t know how, but luck was on my side for a change.

 

The official led me out of the prison, and we walked the streets of the town. Through a few gestures and repeating, he was able to tell me his name. “Siddraldalrehrson,” to my utter pronunciation dismay. I insisted on just calling him Sidd, which he got another chuckle out of. He led me to a nice looking building at the other end of the small town. I quickly found it was his home, due to children running about and calling greetings to him when he entered.

 

Children. By Gwyn, they were actual children! But… I couldn’t wrap my head around this. The official had just invited me, a prisoner who’d been found naked in the streets, into his home. I gave him a truly perplexed look. What the hell? Were these people not as sane as I thought? Were they _that_ naïve? Or did they think I’d been drunk or mugged like I hoped?

 

As the night went on, I found Sidd was a very patient man, and I had a feeling he’d pleaded my case. He led me to his personal office and spread out some books on his desk.

 

I thumbed through the books, looking for anything among the symbols that I could read. Over an hour passed, and we made no progress. Sidd sat back in his chair, scratching his neck and sighing. He blathered something, sounding puzzled but not at all annoyed.

 

I mimicked his motion, slouching in the chair across from his. I shook my head slowly. “Well at least you’re willing to work with me,” I muttered. “I really don’t know why, but I’m grateful.”

 

His wife, though skittish at first, made a proper meal that the entire household later took part in. Her name was apparently “Ingedreidalrehrson” (goddamnit, why me?). At that point, “Alrehrson” was clearly their family name, so… Ingedreid was somewhat easier on the tongue. She was a very strong woman, probably the burliest I’d ever seen in my life, including big knightesses and witches I’d seen from other worlds in the past.

 

It was no wonder she was strong, because once supper was laid on the table, at the _very least_ , nine children including the ones I’d already seen stampeded into the room from upstairs. In the space of a minute or two, more than half the food that had been on the table was decimated. And as quickly as they’d come, the horde of children was gone. Sidd, Ingedreid, and I sat at the table and ate together, the two of them chattering convivially and attempting to include me even though I couldn’t understand. It was actually quite nice.

 

I stared at the multicolored food that had been plopped on my plate. Now, _this_ was embarrassing. My muscle memory failed me on how I should go about eating this. I watched my two hosts and copied them for the first few bites. They gave me a few looks that clearly meant “Are you mad?”, though they eventually ignored me. I ended up shoveling food into my mouth before long, the flavors overwhelming. I felt like I needed to catch up on a minimum of millennia without food. It felt _so good_ to actually need to eat again.

 

I noticed my hosts’ expressions again after I finished my third plate. Sidd regarded me with a mix of shock and pity. Ingedreid laughed heartily and brought me more of the lovely, salty stew mix. She patted my back—more like smacked the air out of me—and sat back down next to her husband. Sidd shook his head and continued to eat and talk to his wife.

 

I ate slowly then, savoring the spices and textures of the food. My attention turned back to why I was alive again. I still needed to find out who had awoken me. If I ever was able to fully communicate with these people, I needed to know how much time had passed since the Age of Dark, because clearly, something brought the sun back…

 

Something was telling me to keep it to myself. These were a simple folk, though they did seem have a sense of law and order. I had not seen a single Undead yet. Perhaps they’d been corralled elsewhere as they had been in my time. Maybe they no longer existed at all. At any rate, I would find out soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Jules from the Future: I will almost definitely not revisit this fic, but I won't say never. I'm notoriously bad at continuing longer works if I post before it's done, so 'tis the fate of his poor fic. 
> 
> I'm keeping it up just in case I do come back to it, but just wanted to put a note on this for any future readers. <3


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